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I'm sitting in an un-airconditioned overpriced (€3.50/hour -- I was paying €1/hour in Florence, and £1/hour in London) Internet cafe a couple blocks from the Vatican, as Lis and my uncle Bob go on a guided tour. I'm catching up on email, and trying to think about what I want to blog about the second half our our time in Tuscany, and what Rome has been like.
The thing which I noticed about Tuscany is that it's so unafraid to actually live up to its reputation.
I mean, my parents and I were at a small restaurant, sitting outside in comfortable chairs on a narrow cobblestone street, or really, an alley, between medieval stone walls. Our table was set such that we could all see down a cross-alley, and we could see down the hill, out to the horizon which was covered with rolling hills raising to low mountains over fields, vinyards, olive groves. . .
The food we were eating was extremely simple food done so well as to stagger credulity. And just as I was thinking how blatantly stereotypical this was, that this was a parody of what we all think Tuscany is, a flock of swifts swooped down the alley eating bugs.
And yet -- it's NOT a parody.
I remember once writing in this blog about the Wisconsin Dells, and how they were honestly and sincerely tacky -- that there is no irony in their tackiness. Vegas and Atlantic City may be aware of what they are, but the Wisconsin Dells have an innocence about them -- they are every bit as tacky, but are totally sincere in their tackiness.
Tuscany has the same sincerity. But it's about its sincerety. It is honestly and sincerely honest and sincere. Tuscany is aware of how beautiful it is, and is aware of how beautiful people think it is. And you'd think that, when it realized that, it would start trying to hard.
It doesn't. It just sits there being so beautiful as to be a parody of itself, but with no irony.
I feel that trying to describe it is to destroy it, because every description I say about it sounds like every description I've read of that. And that makes me feel that I'm saying it is this way because other people have said that it is this way. And yet -- it IS that way, despite the fact that everyone says it is.
So.
What of Rome?
One thing I've noticed is that Rome is, like many cities, at least half-a-dozen cities. The thng is, in Rome, at least two of the cities Rome is are the cities Rome was. But the other four or more are what it is.
Of course, Rome is the capital of the Roman Empire. And Rome is the spot to where the Catholic Church brought the Rennaisance.
Of course, it was other cities, too. It was a Bronze Age settlement, and a post-apocolyptic medieval ghost town. It was a hotbed of ninteenth century nationalism, and of twentieth century fascism. And those are all different Rome-that-was -- but the main two Rome-that-was were from, oh, let's say, -400 to +400, and then from, oh, 1500 to maybe, I dunno, 1650?
For us, we are focusing on the-Rome-that-was during the Caesars, and several of the different Romes-that-are.
Palatine Hill -- if you go to the hill on which, legend has it (and twentieth-century archaeology was shocked to confirm) the earliest Roman settlements were done, you see nothing but ruins. Vast, towing ruins. Bring a guidebook of some sort, because, while the ruins are, on their own, rather impressive in a sort of M.C. Escher way, understanding what you're looking at makes a much more impressive experience.
One can look at the comfortable, attractive, and simple stone house that Caesar Agustus lived in, and one can glance over, and see a tower rising to the sky. From an aethstetic point of view, it's interesting. But then, when you know that that tower is the only remaining part of the wall of the throne room of Vespasian -- that the vaulted arched roof sat on TOP of that wall -- one imagines that the room was almost big enough to have its own weather system, and once notices that you could fit all of the first emperor's house and gardens three or four times over into the THRONE ROOM of the palace of the later ones.
There were twelve statues of Roman gods around that room. There is very little of those statues left. One left foot, actually. Okay, really, just a chunk of one left foot. Only one toe remains.
The toenail of that toe of that foot of that leg of that statue is the size of the palm of my hand.
It's the little toe.
When Lis and my parents and I were up there, we encountered a Chinese student who was in Rome on holiday from university in Germany (extremely attractive woman), who was listening in as Lis was reading from our guidebook to explain what we were looking at. Naturally, we invited her to wander the ruins with us -- it costs no more for Lis to read out loud to five other people than to four. After we finished up gawking at the palace of the emperors, we headed down to the Colleseum (one €11 ticket gets you entry to both attractions, and the ticket lines are much, much shorter at the Palentine.) However, Lis and I had gone the previous day, with Leila, so we couldn't go in. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had the German student born in China to hang around with. So it all worked out.
So, that's much of what we saw of Rome-that-was. As we'd just come from Florence, we felt that we didn't need to see much of Rennaisance Rome.
However, I did have a thought while looking at some of the remnants of the Roman statues, the ones that inspired the Florentine artists, that the body types are all extremely attractive -- but not unrealistic. Some of the statues would be on display in the baths -- and they're body shapes that are probably not entirely unachievable for most people. They're not dangerously skinny, for instance.
So it makes me wonder -- do you think that if American schools gave a better classical education, if it would help body image and reduce anorexia and so forth? If you're looking at examples of beauty that probably require, oh, 1000 to 1200 kCal/day to maintain (including some exercise) are you going to be less likey to starve yourself? Looking at the male torsos, my reaction was, "I really ought to hit the gym some more. . . " Which may welll have been the point of them.
What of Rome-that-is?
Lis found an incredibly romantic B&B just near the Termeni train station, Our bed is the one in the next-to-last photo. It's got very nice ensuite showers (By default, when you go for a room in Europe, the bathrooms are down the hall, like in dorms. A private shower, toilet, sink, etc. is called "ensuite"), air conditioning, a light breakfast in the room, a flat-panel DVD player with a selection of DVDs of, um, the sort that would be good in a romantic B&B. . .
And all at an extremely good price.
As Lis had gotten this as a bit of a reward for us for having dealt with family, she was put out to learn that Mom and Dad had gotten another one of the rooms in the same B&B. When you set up a romantic getaway, it's disconcerting to find that your in-laws are going to be at the same place... But it all worked out fine, and it let us get together with them during the day to see the sights.
But that B&B is part of one of the other Romes, the Rome that we went to last night, starting at eleven o'clock, and walking through the Campo di Fiore, the Piazza Navano, the Trevi Fountain. . .
You know how it's really pointless to show up at a nightclub when they open, because nobody really shows up until, say, eleven or so?
Rome is like that. I mean, EXACTLY like that. Except EVERY night, and you don't have to go anywhere except outside.
And the music is whatever the street musicians are playing. And the prices on beer are better. And the temperature is better.
But most people are in clubbing clothes. Including the fratboys who are in jeans and t-shirts and don't quite get the "dressing to impress", but most of the women have got it down.
It's eleven, and you go to any of the town squares, and if you want to hang out and talk to people, the Campo di Fiore is a good choice, and if you want a beer or some wine or something, you just walk to the edge of the square and buy one from any of the places around.
The Piazza Navono has fountains, street entertainers, fortune-tellers . . .
And you know that corner where it's just good to sit down and make out, in semi-public? Trevi Fountain.
Although there are nightclubs in Rome, it seems almost redundant.
The thing which I noticed about Tuscany is that it's so unafraid to actually live up to its reputation.
I mean, my parents and I were at a small restaurant, sitting outside in comfortable chairs on a narrow cobblestone street, or really, an alley, between medieval stone walls. Our table was set such that we could all see down a cross-alley, and we could see down the hill, out to the horizon which was covered with rolling hills raising to low mountains over fields, vinyards, olive groves. . .
The food we were eating was extremely simple food done so well as to stagger credulity. And just as I was thinking how blatantly stereotypical this was, that this was a parody of what we all think Tuscany is, a flock of swifts swooped down the alley eating bugs.
And yet -- it's NOT a parody.
I remember once writing in this blog about the Wisconsin Dells, and how they were honestly and sincerely tacky -- that there is no irony in their tackiness. Vegas and Atlantic City may be aware of what they are, but the Wisconsin Dells have an innocence about them -- they are every bit as tacky, but are totally sincere in their tackiness.
Tuscany has the same sincerity. But it's about its sincerety. It is honestly and sincerely honest and sincere. Tuscany is aware of how beautiful it is, and is aware of how beautiful people think it is. And you'd think that, when it realized that, it would start trying to hard.
It doesn't. It just sits there being so beautiful as to be a parody of itself, but with no irony.
I feel that trying to describe it is to destroy it, because every description I say about it sounds like every description I've read of that. And that makes me feel that I'm saying it is this way because other people have said that it is this way. And yet -- it IS that way, despite the fact that everyone says it is.
So.
What of Rome?
One thing I've noticed is that Rome is, like many cities, at least half-a-dozen cities. The thng is, in Rome, at least two of the cities Rome is are the cities Rome was. But the other four or more are what it is.
Of course, Rome is the capital of the Roman Empire. And Rome is the spot to where the Catholic Church brought the Rennaisance.
Of course, it was other cities, too. It was a Bronze Age settlement, and a post-apocolyptic medieval ghost town. It was a hotbed of ninteenth century nationalism, and of twentieth century fascism. And those are all different Rome-that-was -- but the main two Rome-that-was were from, oh, let's say, -400 to +400, and then from, oh, 1500 to maybe, I dunno, 1650?
For us, we are focusing on the-Rome-that-was during the Caesars, and several of the different Romes-that-are.
Palatine Hill -- if you go to the hill on which, legend has it (and twentieth-century archaeology was shocked to confirm) the earliest Roman settlements were done, you see nothing but ruins. Vast, towing ruins. Bring a guidebook of some sort, because, while the ruins are, on their own, rather impressive in a sort of M.C. Escher way, understanding what you're looking at makes a much more impressive experience.
One can look at the comfortable, attractive, and simple stone house that Caesar Agustus lived in, and one can glance over, and see a tower rising to the sky. From an aethstetic point of view, it's interesting. But then, when you know that that tower is the only remaining part of the wall of the throne room of Vespasian -- that the vaulted arched roof sat on TOP of that wall -- one imagines that the room was almost big enough to have its own weather system, and once notices that you could fit all of the first emperor's house and gardens three or four times over into the THRONE ROOM of the palace of the later ones.
There were twelve statues of Roman gods around that room. There is very little of those statues left. One left foot, actually. Okay, really, just a chunk of one left foot. Only one toe remains.
The toenail of that toe of that foot of that leg of that statue is the size of the palm of my hand.
It's the little toe.
When Lis and my parents and I were up there, we encountered a Chinese student who was in Rome on holiday from university in Germany (extremely attractive woman), who was listening in as Lis was reading from our guidebook to explain what we were looking at. Naturally, we invited her to wander the ruins with us -- it costs no more for Lis to read out loud to five other people than to four. After we finished up gawking at the palace of the emperors, we headed down to the Colleseum (one €11 ticket gets you entry to both attractions, and the ticket lines are much, much shorter at the Palentine.) However, Lis and I had gone the previous day, with Leila, so we couldn't go in. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had the German student born in China to hang around with. So it all worked out.
So, that's much of what we saw of Rome-that-was. As we'd just come from Florence, we felt that we didn't need to see much of Rennaisance Rome.
However, I did have a thought while looking at some of the remnants of the Roman statues, the ones that inspired the Florentine artists, that the body types are all extremely attractive -- but not unrealistic. Some of the statues would be on display in the baths -- and they're body shapes that are probably not entirely unachievable for most people. They're not dangerously skinny, for instance.
So it makes me wonder -- do you think that if American schools gave a better classical education, if it would help body image and reduce anorexia and so forth? If you're looking at examples of beauty that probably require, oh, 1000 to 1200 kCal/day to maintain (including some exercise) are you going to be less likey to starve yourself? Looking at the male torsos, my reaction was, "I really ought to hit the gym some more. . . " Which may welll have been the point of them.
What of Rome-that-is?
Lis found an incredibly romantic B&B just near the Termeni train station, Our bed is the one in the next-to-last photo. It's got very nice ensuite showers (By default, when you go for a room in Europe, the bathrooms are down the hall, like in dorms. A private shower, toilet, sink, etc. is called "ensuite"), air conditioning, a light breakfast in the room, a flat-panel DVD player with a selection of DVDs of, um, the sort that would be good in a romantic B&B. . .
And all at an extremely good price.
As Lis had gotten this as a bit of a reward for us for having dealt with family, she was put out to learn that Mom and Dad had gotten another one of the rooms in the same B&B. When you set up a romantic getaway, it's disconcerting to find that your in-laws are going to be at the same place... But it all worked out fine, and it let us get together with them during the day to see the sights.
But that B&B is part of one of the other Romes, the Rome that we went to last night, starting at eleven o'clock, and walking through the Campo di Fiore, the Piazza Navano, the Trevi Fountain. . .
You know how it's really pointless to show up at a nightclub when they open, because nobody really shows up until, say, eleven or so?
Rome is like that. I mean, EXACTLY like that. Except EVERY night, and you don't have to go anywhere except outside.
And the music is whatever the street musicians are playing. And the prices on beer are better. And the temperature is better.
But most people are in clubbing clothes. Including the fratboys who are in jeans and t-shirts and don't quite get the "dressing to impress", but most of the women have got it down.
It's eleven, and you go to any of the town squares, and if you want to hang out and talk to people, the Campo di Fiore is a good choice, and if you want a beer or some wine or something, you just walk to the edge of the square and buy one from any of the places around.
The Piazza Navono has fountains, street entertainers, fortune-tellers . . .
And you know that corner where it's just good to sit down and make out, in semi-public? Trevi Fountain.
Although there are nightclubs in Rome, it seems almost redundant.